


sugar and spice

by something1d



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:25:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something1d/pseuds/something1d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Louis' a bitchy, lovable shit, and Harry's stuck putting up with him.</p><p>one shot, au</p>
            </blockquote>





	sugar and spice

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this somewhere else, and copied and pasted onto here, and italics/bolded words don't transfer onto ao3, and I didn't feel like going through and italicizing/bolding everything. If the letters they send to each other (and the texts they send to each other too) look weird and out of place, it's because they're supposed to be italicized/bolded to separate themselves from the narrative, but, oh well. Soz.  
> Enjoyyyy and I love ya
> 
> Copyright © 2013 by something1d, all rights reserved.

It’s Monday when Louis gets the letter.

He’s just woken up and made himself a cup of tea, mentally cursing his flat for being so damn cold all the time. Like seriously, his toes are going to turn blue and fall off.

Thankfully, he’s got a day off today, because fuck, he’s tired, even though it’s noon and he slept for thirteen hours. Between night classes at uni three times a week and daytime shifts at the bookstore down the street, he doesn’t have much time to rest.

He shuffles into the living room and sets his tea on a side table before plopping down onto the couch, snatching a nearby blanket and throwing it over himself.

And then there’s Harry.

Louis sighs.

Louis' a really, really shit boyfriend. He’s just doing so much, and he’s so busy that he’s had less and less time for Harry in the past few months, but Harry’s been so fucking thoughtful and empathetic about it. Seriously, he knows that if he were in Harry’s situation, he’d be fed up by now.

Louis’ lucky.

Harry is so patient and kind, and generous and gentle and happy to give Louis a back massage while he’s writing his fifteen page sociology paper, and stays up past midnight to bake Louis cookies and to make him tea when he’s up late studying because he won’t have time to the next day. He comes by the bookshop at lunch and brings Louis little brownies or sandwiches and one time, even marshmallows, because he was “thinking about Louis” and wanted to see him. He holds Louis’ hand tight and gathers him up into his arms when he’s feeling stressed or anxious, he lets Louis rest his head on his chest while they’re watching movies on their ratty sofa, he kisses Louis’ worries away every morning, afternoon, and evening, and Louis has fucking nothing to show for it all.

He didn’t used to be this shitty, mind you. Louis used to be an amazing boyfriend, thank you very much. But in the past few months, stress and school and work have consumed him, and he just feels lost all the time, and he thinks he might’ve gone legitimately mad had he not had Harry to ground him during his times of distress.

Louis’ apologized to Harry so, so much for not giving back the way he should. And Louis really means it too, he cares about Harry more than anything and he can’t stand himself for being such a shit. But every time, Harry’s brushed away his apologies, saying that Louis doesn’t need to apologize and that he’s happy to just be there for him right now, because that’s what he’s there for.

Louis loves him with absolutely everything he’s fucking got, that’s for sure.

He smiles to himself as he thinks back to the beginning, when he and Harry first started dating. They were young and stupid and Louis was seventeen and Harry was sixteen and Louis asked Harry out on a movie date and it was awkward, so awkward, but nice all the same. A week turned into a month, which turned into a year, when they first told each other they loved each other, then two, and then Louis was going off to uni while Haz was still in college. Thankfully, Louis was close by, and they kept their relationship going, despite the few little bumps on the road.

When Harry graduated, and told Louis that he’d been accepted to Louis' university, the two were absolutely ecstatic. Louis decided not to dorm for his second year of uni and opted to rent out a flat with Harry instead, and to this day Louis thinks that’s one of the best decisions he’s ever made.

And now, Louis’ in his last year of uni while Harry’s in his second to last. Harry’s got a part-time job at the bakery near school, so he has time to schedule his classes during the day.

Louis, however, was unlucky enough to land himself with a full-time job when his coworker, Nick, quit; now, he’s stuck working from eight to five, six days a week, until his boss finds a replacement.

It’s been four fucking months, and so far, no one has even applied for the fucking job. Sure, the extra money’s nice, but Louis personally thinks that the job is costing him more, emotionally, than he’s getting in return.

He can’t do this anymore. It’s too much stress, and he hates taking night classes, he’s always tired and can’t focus and it makes doing all of his work so much harder. He can’t quit his job, he and Harry need the money, but he just has to figure out some way to get out of this.

He gets up off of the couch and pads back to his room to unplug his phone from where it was charging in the dock, and taps out a number, the number of the only person he’d even have the slightest chance at convincing to help out. As he waits, Louis flops down on his bed, limbs splayed and actually considers going back to sleep for a moment before the ringing stops.

“Lou?”

“Zayn, hey mate, y’alright?”

“No I’m not fucking alright, you fucking woke me up you shit.”

Louis rolls his eyes. Only Zayn would be asleep at 12:30 in the afternoon.

“So, are you looking for a job right now?”

“What?”

“You know how I told you that the bookshop I work at is hiring? And until they find someone, I’m stuck working full time?”

Zayn doesn’t respond.

“Well, no one’s applied.”

“Louis,” Zayn says warningly.

“Oh come on, please? You’d have the afternoon shift, so you wouldn’t have to wake up early!”

Nothing.

“Think about it?”

Pause. Then, Zayn sighs. “I don’t know Lou, yeah, I’ll think about it. I don’t know though…” He sounds uneasy.

“…Okay, let me know.”

“Yeah, yeah I will. Love you.”

“Love you too, Z. I’ll see you.”

Louis hits the “end call” button maybe a bit more forcefully than he has to.

He sits up, pinching the bridge of his nose. He legitimately feels like he’s going to collapse from the stress sometimes, and this is one of those times. Slowly, he feels his heartbeat getting faster and faster and he doesn’t know what to do and he can’t breathe and –

His phone buzzes with a text in his lap. “Haz,” flashes on the lock screen, and he immediately feels better, calmer. Harry’s always had that effect on him.

Hey babe, sleep well? I really want to be at home cuddling you right now :( xxxx

Louis wonders how, as he taps out his reply, after five years, Harry still makes him feel as giddy as a teenage girl with a crush.

Yeh :) Missin you though xxxx

He gets a response almost as soon as he’s sent his own.

Check the mailbox x

Louis’ eyebrows pinch together. What?

He pouts. What’s Harry playing at?

Should he go check?

After about a minute of debating, he sighs and heaves himself off of his bed. After stopping to take another gulp of his tea, he pokes his head outside (it’s fucking freezing, holy shit) and sees that there is, in fact, a folded up piece of paper in the mailbox.

He snatches it and quickly shuts the door, shivering from the cold air that snuck its way into the flat. He quickly walks back to the sofa, phone and paper in hand, and cocoons himself in his blanket once more before unfolding the paper.

Hiiiii!  
So I know you’re going to think this is stupid and cliché and cheesy because that’s what you always think of my ideas. But I like this, so we’re going with it. Okay? Okay.  
No one writes letters anymore, and that makes me sad. So, I wanted to start writing letters to you! Because, why not?  
I'd really like it if you'd play along and read all of the notes I send you? Just for this week? Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top?  
I know you're probably feeling a little stressed right now, because of everything, but I just wanted to remind you that I'm here for you always. Love you to the moon and back, Lou, and even farther.  
H

It's sickening, how cute he is.

Seriously though, who does this shit?

Louis taps out a message to Harry on his phone.

You're mental

About thirty seconds later, his phone lights up with a response.

But you love me ;)

Okay, so Louis admits he smiled a bit at that one, because it's true, he does.

A lot.

Which is why, as stupid and dorky as it is, Louis takes the letter to his room and slides it into the drawer in his bedside table, grinning to himself the whole way.

****

On Tuesday morning, Harry leaves Louis a letter under a plate on the kitchen table, a plate that's piled with scrambled eggs and bacon. God, what would he do without Harry? Really though.

Hello der!  
You're my favorite. Did you know that? Because if you didn't, that'd probably be really bad at this point.  
But yeah, you're my favorite.  
So, we don’t have those cheesy “I love you” talks as often as I would like to, because you call me dramatic every time I tell you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, even though I know you secretly love it. But I’ve already written this stuff down, so you can’t make fun of me or make me stop talking, so. Ha. In your face.  
I love you more than anything, and you make me so incredibly happy that sometimes I can’t even see straight. Your smile is beautiful, your eyes are beautiful, your everything is beautiful. I don’t know what I’d do without you. We’ve been together for years, and you still make me feel like I’m falling in love for the first time every single moment we’re together. Thank you for being so fantastic and wonderful and amazing, and I can’t wait to see you tonight.  
H <3

Is it bad that Louis’ blushing like mad at this point?

Louis heads off to work with a smile on his face; a smile that doesn’t falter for the rest of the day.

****

“So, I love you.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow, the left corner of his pink lips sliding up in a smirk. “Do you?”

Louis’ arms are around Harry’s waist, and he grins sweetly as he looks up at him. “Yeah, I reckon so.”

“Even though you call me stupid and impossible?”

Harry’s eyes are sparkling in the dim light of their bedroom.

“Yeah, even though you’re stupid and impossible.”

Harry grins. “Alright, I mean, I guess I’ll take it.”

Louis rolls his eyes, and presses a chaste kiss to Harry’s cheek. Harry’s grin widens.

They’re silent for a bit. Louis rests his head on Harry’s chest, listening to the dull thud of his heartbeat.

“For the record,” Harry says quietly, “I love you too.”

Louis tilts his face up and kisses the underside of Harry’s jaw softly. “I know.”

****

On Wednesday afternoon, Harry pops by the bookshop before his afternoon classes. He leaves Louis a red velvet cupcake, and a small square of paper slipped discreetly into his hand.

Louis waits until his break to open it.

Sugar and spice, and everything nice.  
…  
I don’t know how to finish the poem.  
I’m kind of shit at being creative, if you haven’t noticed.

Louis scoffs, even though he’s grinning too, because that’s the biggest lie Louis’ ever heard. Harry’s so creative, the most creative person Louis knows, even.

Here, I’ll try again.  
Oh Mr. Sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are graaaay.  
Are those even the right words?  
Eh, whatever. It was a bit too “Barney and Friends” for me anyways.  
I hope you’re having a lovely day. Enjoy the cupcake, I made it especially for you ;)  
H

****

Louis’ gotten up early Thursday morning to make Harry breakfast.

He figures, since he’s such a shit boyfriend anyways, for not making as much time for Harry as he should be, that he at least owes him this much.

But, obviously, it doesn’t exactly go as planned. Which isn’t surprising, really; nothing ever goes according to plan when it comes to Louis.

Naturally, Harry’s not woken up in the morning by the sweet smell of bacon; he’s woken up by the kitchen’s smoke alarm going off.

He rushes into the kitchen in only his boxers, seeing Louis, frantically trying to put out the flaming piece of toast, still in the toaster.

Harry squeals and runs out of the room, and when he comes back, he’s carrying a fire extinguisher. He promptly puts out the fire.

It’s probably not an appropriate time for Louis to think about how fucking hot he looks wielding a fire extinguisher in only boxers, but he’s only human.

Afterwards, Harry turns to Louis with an exasperated expression on his face, his muscles glistening with sweat. Louis swallows thickly, partly because shit Harry’s fucking hot and how’d he get so lucky?; the other part, because he knows that Harry’s going to lecture him for being an idiot.

“Lou, what were you doing?” Harry asks in a soft voice.

The worst part about Harry’s little lecture-things is that he doesn’t yell at you, or get angry. He just looks kind of disappointed, and upset, as if it’s his own fault somehow. And then he makes you feel like you hurt his feelings or something, which doesn’t even make sense, and then everything’s a mess.

“I was just trying to make you breakfast,” Louis explains, sighing and running a hand through his limp hair. “To make up for me being such an awful boyfriend.”

Harry’s eyes widen, the green softening. “Louis,” he says, walking up to him and wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist. Louis, quite frankly, thinks he’s going to explode, because this beautiful creature is half naked and sweaty and eep.

You know, Louis used to think that at some point, he’d get used to this. That he’d get used to Harry’s stunning beauty, how bright his greenish gold eyes get when he’s happy, that he’d get used to Harry’s perfect arms and back muscles and smile and how genuine he is and how sweet he is and Louis’ rambling now.

Anyways. The point.

The point is that Louis’ not used to it. Not one bit. And that should annoy him, but he actually kind of loves it, really.

“You’re not an awful boyfriend.” Harry’s greens are smoldering. “Not at all. You’re actually the best boyfriend that anyone could ever have.”

Louis blushes and rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a sap.”

“No, really.” Harry’s eyes widen with sincerity, and wow, he’s such a little cherub of a person isn’t he? A cherub-y cupcake that can sometimes turn into the sexiest fucking person that exists in the universe and beyond.

“Don’t give me that look, Lou,” Harry says. “I’m serious. You’re amazing. Don’t think for a second that you’re an awful boyfriend.”

Louis just pulls Harry closer and nuzzles into his chest.

“Promise?”

Louis can hear Harry’s voice reverberate through his chest.

“Yeah yeah, okay,” Louis mumbles.

And then Harry pulls Louis into a very sweet kiss, and yeah, Louis’ pretty gone for this boy.

****

Louis’ confused, because he thinks his boyfriend might have a part-time job as a ninja.

He finds another note in his pocket around noon on Thursday, while he’s restocking the nonfiction shelf. And he has no idea how it got there.

He unfolds it, and immediately a grin breaks out across his face.

Harry’s drawn a picture of a puppy, surrounded by flowers.

Yeah, it looks like it was done by an eight year old, but Louis appreciates it all the same.

Underneath the drawing is one single line, scrawled out in Harry’s messy handwriting.

I like puppies. We should get one.  
H xxxx

Louis pulls out his phone.

We’re not getting a puppy <3

His phone buzzes in his pocket about ten minutes later.

:,(

****

Harry's strumming on his guitar when Louis gets home the following evening.

"Hey Lou," Harry says when Louis walks in, putting his guitar aside and going over to peck Louis on the lips. "How are you?"

Louis sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Tired. And annoyed that I have class in four hours."

Harry's eyes soften, and his lower lip juts out a bit. He pushes a strand of Louis' fringe away from his eyes with one hand, and pulls Louis close from the small of his back with the other. "Don't think about it for now," Harry says quietly. "I have something I want to show you. Just relax."

As much as Louis wants to melt into Harry's touch, as much as he wants to hug him and kiss him and never let him go, Louis feels really fucking wound up right now, feels like everything that's been happening, all of the stress and anxiety, has been building up more and more. He feels like he's going to snap; he wants to snap, even. He wants to let it all out. He doesn't want to try and be calm, he wants to be able to be angry for once. He's not in the mood to feel like a shit boyfriend, the way Harry makes him feel. He's not in the mood to feel guilty for being so horrible while Harry surprises him with something or other, whatever it is that he wants to "show" him. He's definitely not in the mood to think about how terrible of a person he is for not giving back to Harry as much as he should. And Harry telling him to relax is not helping, even if he didn't mean it in a bad way. 

He gently pushes Harry away from him, trying to ignore the flash of hurt that appears in Harry's eyes as he does so. "I can't, though. I can't relax."

"Why not?"

"Because there's so much going on right now, I just can't!"

"Lou," Harry says softly, holding a hand out to Louis. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't be sorry," Louis says with a scoff, feeling something white-hot flooding his veins. His voice is getting louder and louder. "I don't want you to be sorry for me, I want you to understand."

"I do, though. I do understand."

"No, you don't. That's my point."

Harry furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "Care to enlighten me? What is it that I don't understand?" he says, in a slightly exasperated tone.

"Just - you just don't - I don't know, I don't know how! You just don't get it, Harry!"

"Louis, if you'd just let me -"

"No, I don't want you to try and fucking 'fix' anything, because I know that's what you're going to say," Louis snaps, saying "fix" in air quotes. "I feel like shit and that's that, so just leave me be and let me feel like shit, alright?"

Harry recoils at Louis' harsh tone. "Why are you -"

"Just stop it! Stop it and leave me alone!"

Louis' voice breaks towards the end of his sentence, turning his shouts into strangled squeaks. His legs give out and he crumples to the floor, feeling the tears run down his cheeks. And he doesn't want to be crying, he feels so pathetic and weak, and the fact that he's fucking sobbing on the floor right now is making him even angrier. He didn't want to start crying. He doesn't want to look up and see Harry looking at him pitifully. He doesn't want any of this, he just wants to go to sleep and not have to go to class, and not have to wake up early the next morning and go back to work. 

He feels a warm, firm hand on his arm, and looks up only to have his heart crumble into ash.

Harry's looking into his eyes with such care, such warmth and love and devotion. And no pity.

And if it's even possible, this only makes Louis feel even worse about himself, about his immaturity and about how he's being the biggest shit in the fucking universe right now.

He snatches his arm away from Harry's grasp. "Don't touch me!" he says between sobs. "Just don't! L-Leave me alone!" He jumps up and bolts out of the room, leaving Harry looking like a deer in headlights behind him. A hurt, pained deer in headlights. And Louis caused that.

Louis hurt the one person who is the least deserving of it, who is the least deserving of this type of treatment.

His sobs get louder at the thought.

He runs into his and Harry's bedroom and slams the door shut behind him. He leans his forehead against the door, breathing heavily and trying to stop his heaving chest from convulsing with sobs.

And then he turns around, and what he sees brings on a fresh round of bawling.

The bed is covered in red rose petals, scattered all over the comforter. On the side tables are small candles, their flames flickering a warm gold throughout the room. 

They're scented. He can smell vanilla in the air.

Vanilla's his favorite.

Also on one of the side tables is a bowl of chocolate covered strawberries, which Harry loves making and Louis loves eating. There's a vase of roses next to the bowl, its petals the same color as the ones strewn across the bed. 

He then sees a small, folded up piece of paper sitting in the middle of the bed, a small heart drawn onto the top in purple ink. 

Louis' chest shudders again as he snatches it and opens it up.

Louis! Hi!  
Oops. Am I going overboard, with all the flowers and candles and everything?  
Maybe.  
I should do these things for you more often. No one deserves it more than you.

Fuck, Louis' really losing it now, because he doesn't, he doesn't deserve Harry or any of this at all.

I was thinking that maybe tonight could be a night for us. That maybe, before you go to class, we could just spend some time together and talk, like we used to. We don't do that too much anymore, and I miss it.  
I really, really miss it.  
Don't think you're doing anything wrong, though. It's not your fault. You're working so hard for us, and I admire you so much because of it. Please never think you're not doing enough, because I know you've been saying that a lot recently. But you're doing more than enough. You've always done more than enough.

No he hasn't, not at all.

We should take a weekend soon, just for us. Maybe go to the country, away from the city, away from school and work and everything. Just focus on each other.  
I love you, and I always will. No matter what happens. I never want you to doubt that.  
H

Louis' really gone and done it now, hasn't he?

He sits there and cries and cries until he can't cry any longer, and he falls asleep just like that, curled up on the floor, feeling sad and angry and ashamed and broken.

****

When Louis wakes up, it's light outside. 

Shit. He slept through class.

He's on his side on the floor, arms still wrapped around his knees. His right arm's asleep, and he shakes it out a bit before he stretches. 

Tear tracks have dried on his face. He pushes himself off of the floor, standing up shakily. 

Harry's not in bed. 

He cautiously pushes the door open, and creeps down the hallway. There's no noise coming from the kitchen, no muted TV background noise. Nothing.

He peeks into the living room, and breathes out a sigh of relief. 

Harry's there on the couch, curled up under a fuzzy gray blanket. He's reading A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway, a book Louis thought was a bore when he read it, but that Harry has been fascinated by. He hasn't put it down in a week. 

He slowly walks into the room, expecting the worst. Harry might yell at him, or tell him off for acting like a pms-ing bitch, or maybe even worse.

Harry looks up at Louis when he sees him approaching, his gaze blank.

Louis freezes as soon as Harry lays eyes on him, standing there on the other side of the living room. He says the first thing that comes to mind. "I-I thought you might have left me."

Harry stares at him for a moment longer before he sighs, shutting the book and tossing it on the coffee table. "Don't you know by now," he says softly, "that I'm never going to do that?"

Louis can't move. His eyes are hopeful. Maybe Harry's not as mad as he thought.

"But," Harry says quietly. "That doesn't mean I forgive you."

Louis' heart clenches with fear, and his face falls a bit. "Fair enough."

Harry's cold gaze softens, and his eyes gain a bit of their warmth back. He scoots over to one side of the couch, patting the spot next to him as an invitation for Louis to sit down.

Louis still doesn't move. "Why aren't you at work?"

"I called in sick."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want to go, after last night."

"You didn't wake me up for class last night," Louis blurts out, regretting it immediately.

Harry's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "Is that my job now, to make sure you're awake in time for class? I'm not your mum, Louis."

"No, I know, that's - that's not what I meant."

Harry's gaze remains incredulous.

"It's just that," Louis begins softly. "You always wake me up for class, when I accidentally fall asleep." His voice cracks on the last syllable. 

Harry's shoulders droop. "I know," he says, just as softly. 

They stay there, staring at each other for a while. 

Then Louis can't take it anymore, he can't handle the mere thought of even losing Harry, and tears start streaming down his face. He starts crying harder and harder, saying "I'm sorry Harry, I'm so fucking sorry, I'm so fucking stressed Harry," over and over again, but he doesn't even know if Harry can make out the words. He can barely even understand himself; he sounds like he's babbling in a foreign language. 

Harry gets up and goes to him, gathering Louis up in his arms and rubbing his back soothingly. "Shhh, Louis please don't cry." When Harry pulls back and looks Louis in the eyes, he has a few tears welling up in his own. "Please."

Louis nods, trying to take deep breaths, because he doesn't want to see Harry cry too. Once the sobs are reduced to whimpers, and he can breathe fairly evenly again, Harry pulls him to the couch, wrapping an arm around Louis' shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of Louis' head. 

"I don't think I want to go to work today," Louis sniffles. "I should call in sick."

"No need, I've already done it for you."

Louis looks up at Harry. "What?"

"I told them you weren't feeling well. I knew you wouldn't want to go."

Louis sighs in relief. "You're the best."

Harry doesn't respond. He runs his fingers through Louis' hair, rhythmically. 

"Are you still mad at me?" 

"Very," Harry says, his voice void of emotion.

Louis sighs. "That's what I thought."

****

Louis takes another day off from work, calling in sick again the following morning after Harry leaves for the bakery. 

He goes to buy a bouquet of daisies after he eats breakfast. As he's paying for the flowers, though, a bright orange flier catches his eye. 

It's advertising a photography exhibit opening that night, about fifteen minutes away from his and Harry's flat. 

He immediately drives over there to buy tickets. 

****

When Louis opens the door to the bakery, something that smells like a combination of fondant and french bread hits Louis square in the face.

"Hi, welcome to -" 

Harry's robotic, memorized greeting is cut short when he looks up and sees that it's Louis who's walked in, and his eyes light up like the fucking sun. "Lou! What are you doing here?"

Louis pulls the bouquet of daisies out from behind his back. "I just wanted to bring you these," he says, smiling sheepishly as Harry's cheeks turn pink. He lets out a small gasp, and smiles so big, like Louis has saved the fucking world or something, who even knows. 

"Thank you," he says softly, and he looks so happy and surprised that Louis feels guilty. Why doesn't he do things like this for Harry every single fucking day? It'd be worth it, to see Harry this happy all the time.

"And also, I thought tonight we could maybe..." Louis trails off and pulls the tickets out of his pocket, handing them to Harry.

Harry's eyebrows pull together, and he mouths out the words written on the thick printed paper. Then, he freezes. 

After a beat, he looks up at Louis, his face even more radiant than before. "Holy shit, Louis, a photography exhibit?!"

Louis nods, pressing his lips together, trying to hold back a grin.

"Oh my god, I'm so excited! I can't believe this, you - you just - wow."

Harry's smiling at him with such adoration that Louis can't help but blush. He looks down at his shoes, unable to meet Harry's gaze any longer. 

Harry pulls him into a hug over the bakery counter, not letting him go for ages. 

Not that Louis minds, of course.

"Thank you," he says into Louis' shoulder, the words muffled. Louis just shakes his head and laughs softly, and that is that.

****

When Louis wakes up to his blaring alarm the next morning, he finds the space next to him empty, but a small, neatly folded square of paper sitting on the pillow, where Harry would be if he hadn't gone to work already. 

Thank you for yesterday, the exhibit was wonderful. But not as wonderful as you.  
I wish I could stay home with you again today, but I can't miss any more work this week.  
I love you, and I want to have lunch with you today, so I might swing by the bookshop and bring us sandwiches or something.  
H  
P.S: You're forgiven. :)

****

Louis' studying for a calculus exam at home alone two days later, while Harry's out grocery shopping. 

"Ugh!" he shouts, slamming his book shut. He rests his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. He can't fucking do this. Math is bullshit. 

His phone starts ringing. It's Harry; he knows because Harry set "We Can't Stop" by Miley Cyrus as Louis' ringtone for whenever Harry calls, because Harry finds the song extremely funny (for whatever reason). Louis had let him do so only to humor him. It's not like he actually likes the song or anything, or spends a second or two dancing as his phone rings before answering. 

Psh. Not at all.

"Hey babe," he says as he answers the phone, smiling.

"Hi Lou." Louis smiles wider. He can practically hear the grin in Harry's voice, and that makes him really really happy.

"Do me a favor babe, and go check in the fridge and see if we have any apples left. I can't remember if I need to buy some or not."

"Yeah, sure," Louis says quickly, before jumping off of the couch and heading over to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, and then goes to look for apples, but finds a small piece of paper where they usually are. 

"Harry, why is there -"

"Read it." 

Louis' so fucking confused. "What?"

"Read it. The note."

"But the apples -"

"Forget the apples, Lou. Read it."

"O-okay," Louis says, holding his phone in place with his shoulder as he unfolds the paper.

Open the door.

Louis blinks in surprise.

"Harry, it says to open the door."

"Okay, then open the door."

"Harry what is this? What's going on?"

"Just open the door, Lou."

Louis sighs, slamming the refrigerator shut and padding over to the front door. He swings the front door open, and gasps. 

Harry's standing there, phone at his ear, grinning at Louis.

He hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket, grabbing Louis' hand and pulling him outside. 

"Harry what the -"

Louis' so fucking confused.

"Don't ask questions, Lou."

Louis sighs and goes along with it, unable to find the energy to even try to figure out what's happening.

Harry pulls him down the sidewalk, Louis' bare feet slapping against the freezing cold sidewalk. "Harry, it's really cold, can I at least go put on shoes or something?"

"Nope!"

Louis sighs again. 

Finally, Harry drags him to a small clearing a few blocks away from their house, a quiet, grassy field that they sometimes like to have picnics in. 

The pair are silent. They're standing there, breathing heavily from running, their gazes drawn to the sky.

"It's a shame we don't get to see these better. The city ruins it," Harry says quietly, pointing to the stars sprinkled across the velvet sky.

Louis hums in agreement, mesmerized by the twinkling spots of light above. He's not even thinking about why he's there anymore; he's just gently smoothing his thumbs over the backs of Harry's hands, which are both in his, feeling calm and worry-free. 

"Louis," Harry says softly, breaking the long silence in a tone of voice that makes Louis' heart absolutely pound, and Louis doesn't know why. He looks up into Harry's eyes. "Yeah?"

Harry lets go of Louis hands and takes a step back. Louis furrows his brows. 

Harry slides a hand into his front pocket, and pulls out a small black box. 

Louis brings a hand to cover his mouth, unable to make any noise.

Harry gets on one knee, eyes twinkling up at Louis in the darkness. Louis can't move. 

"Louis William Tomlinson," he begins. "I love you more than anything. You are my world, my universe, my everything. I have never loved anyone more than I love you, and I never will."

Louis feels tears building up in his eyes. 

"You are the most amazing, brilliant thing that's ever happened to me. I can't understand how I ever got by without you, and I can't imagine living my life without you. It's been five years, five of the best fucking years of my life, and I want to be with you forever; in this life, in my next life, and in every single one of my lives after that." Harry's voice cracks here, and Louis' trying so hard not to cry. 

"I'd say so much more, but I have absolutely no idea how to put it all into words, how to do my feelings for you justice. What I do know how to put into words, though, is this."

Louis' shaking.

"Will you marry me?"

Harry opens the box and holds it up to Louis, his face earnest and hopeful, green eyes glowing in the darkness. The ring is a thick silver band; simple, but beautiful, the most beautiful ring Louis has ever seen. 

Louis tries to blink the tears away, temporarily forgetting how to speak, but then finding his voice a second or two later. "Yes, oh god Harry, yes!"

Louis' tears are flowing openly now, and he's crying, crying so hard because he's so fucking happy. Harry's got tears rolling down his cheeks as well, and he's smiling so wide that Louis thinks his face is going to get stuck like that permanently. Harry takes the ring out of the box and gently slides it onto Louis' finger, and then kisses Louis' hand. 

Louis squeaks, and throws his arms around Harry's shoulders, and Harry laughs wetly, picking Louis up and spinning him around in a circle. "Harry, oh my god!" Louis keeps saying.

When Harry finally puts him down, Louis smacks him on the arm. "Apples? Really?"

Harry laughs out loud, louder than Louis' heard him laugh in a long time. It sounds free, ringing through the empty field and echoing across the sky; it sounds like the laugh of someone in love. And Louis' absolutely giddy with the thought. "I had to get the note to you somehow!"

"God, I love you," Louis mutters suddenly, grabbing fistfulls of the front of Harry's sweatshirt and pulling him in for a kiss. Harry wraps his arms around Louis' waist, and Louis weaves his fingers through Harry's hair, tugging gently at his curls. 

"By the way," Harry whispers, pulling away to gently press a kiss to Louis' forehead. "I talked to Zayn. He's taken the afternoon shift at the bookshop."

Louis freezes. "What?"

"You don't have to work full time anymore," Harry says, grinning.

Louis pauses.

"I don't have to work full time anymore?"

It's not sinking in.

Harry nods, tightening his hold around Louis' waist. 

"Holy shit," Louis whispers. "Wait - this means - no more night classes!"

Harry nods again, more eagerly this time, a huge smile spreading across his face. 

"No more night classes!" Louis laughs giddily, sure that he sounds insane. "Christ! No more fucking night classes! I can change my schedule! I'll have more time to - to sleep! And to be with you! And we can go out to the cinema now all the time, and go have dinner instead of just staying home always and holy shit Harry!"

Harry laughs again, that booming, beautiful, in-love laugh of his. Louis pulls him in for another kiss. 

And Louis thinks, for the first itme in four months, that everything will maybe turn out alright.

And it's all thanks to Harry.

****

~Fin~


End file.
